Requests
by Xix Crane
Summary: Communication is key in a relationship. How else are you going to find out what your partner likes? And you won't get what you want unless you ask. Unfortunately for Christine, she has a bit of a communication issue...Short stories done for Kinktober.
1. The Kiss

Christine had a problem. It wasn't an ordinary problem; in fact, many wives would say it was no problem at all. She had been with the person who she loved, who truly understood her for seven years - married for five of them - when she realized she had this peculiar issue. It began with her being satisfied completely in each and every way she ever desired.

To say that Erik was her soulmate was almost an understatement. He never ridiculed her love of stories and often joined her in sinking deep into a dreamy cast of mind. They both could seemingly live on music alone. He was kind in his own quiet way, anticipating her needs so that she never had to ask for anything. To Gustave, he was always attentive and indulgent - perhaps a little too much sometimes. On top of all this, he was filthy rich, had impeccable taste, and Christine found him incredibly handsome, deformity and all. Sexually, there was nothing he wouldn't do to ensure her satisfaction. She only had to say jump and he would ask how high.

And here was the problem.

Erik never asked anything of her. She was certain to see to his pleasure, of course, but it was always her that initiated things, that made suggestions, that brought new ideas to the bedroom. When it came to this aspect of their relationship, he completely deferred to her, whether it was out of his deeply ingrained fear of rejection, or cleaving to the ideals of gentlemanly behavior, or the fact that he hadn't had much experience, or just his natural shyness that she had worked hard over the years to peel away.

She began to wonder if there was something that Erik was wanting but was holding back from her for these reasons, and truthfully, she wanted him to take a little more initiative. There was no denying that he wanted her but it would be nice, she decided, if he would demonstrate this without waiting to be given explicit instructions. It wasn't so much a matter of consent but more of control, and Christine was aching to relinquish it and give in to his desires.

Addressing the topic of asking Erik what he would like blended smoothly into discussing her proposal that he take the reins more often, she felt, but she just needed to find the perfect time to bring it up - delicately and with all of the tact she learned maneuvering through the upper echelons of high society. The perfect opportunity presented itself rather neatly - Gustave had left at the end of fall for his first solo voyage around the world, the park had just closed for the rest of the year freeing him from immediate obligations, and they were celebrating their five year anniversary.

After starting the day with a long stroll on the now-empty beach and ending up in bed through the afternoon, Christine decided it was the ideal time to strike. Lost in afterglow, cuddled together in bed as a twilight haze filled the room, Christine looked up at Erik's face. His eyes were closed, there was almost a smile on his lips, and his breathing was even and steady as she trailed one finger up and down, up and down his chest.

"Erik, dear…"

"Yes, my sweetness?"

"I have a question for you…"

"Then I shall have an answer for you." The arm that was wrapped around her shoulders pulled her closer. He pressed his cheek to crown of her head and murmured into her hair, "Ask away."

"I was wondering...is there anything that you would like that perhaps you haven't mentioned? I don't want you to get bored…"

His eyes fluttered open. "Bored? Never!"

"I worry at times that you don't get everything you wish for…"

"Perish the thought!" He chuckled. "There's no such thing. You have given me beyond what I've ever dreamed of having." Suddenly, his eyes darkened. His other arm came around to squeeze her tighter. "Why? Do you feel that I'm not happy? Have I not been grateful enough? Oh, Christine, if I've failed to demonstrate the - "

"Now you're changing the subject…" she said, bringing a finger to rest on his lips and stop his protestations. "This isn't about what I want, this is about what _you_ want. Are you sure there's not a single thing you would like me to do for you?"

"No."

"Not a one?"

"Not a one."

"Really?"

"...Really."

That little pause at the beginning of his last answer had piqued her suspicion. She sat up and turned to face him. Erik's lips pressed into a thin line and he sunk back against the pillows a little further, looking up at her with apprehensive amber eyes. Aha - Christine recognized this look! It was the same guilty face that Gustave wore as a child when he had been caught eavesdropping or had broken something and squirreled away the evidence.

"Erik, if there's something you want - "

"There isn't!" His protestation was far too quick to be truthful and they both knew it.

" - the worst I could say is no."

He remained silent.

She softened her approach, bending down to trail a line of kisses from his collarbone to his jaw. "Relationships are about communication...If there's a way for me to make you happy, I want to know it. _Please_..." she whispered, knowing he couldn't resist her voice in his ear.

"Christine, I can't!" He squirmed under her kisses.

So - she was getting to the truth now! She kept going. "Why not?"

"I can't, I simply can't!"

"Just tell me why…"

"Because…" He sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. "...it's too disgusting!"

Here, Christine had to pause.

To say Erik was a peculiar person was hardly an exaggeration. She still wasn't sure that everything he had told her about his past was true although she had little reason to doubt him. For all that he had seen and experienced, though, it was mostly on the outside of humanity. He saw things differently than others and it contributed greatly to his brilliance. The issue was that in certain situations that anyone else had mastered early on in life, he could be a bit out of step to say the least. Christine wondered with a mix of excitement and dread what request he had been hiding from her.

Christine was no novice in the bedroom. Although her first experience had been a mad rush of desperation and passion, she had spent 10 years after that as a married woman with a normal, healthy sexual appetite. Her relationship with Raoul had been perfectly satisfactory, even when it dipped into routine, and their activities were usually average, with an adventurous position or two thrown in every once in a while.

That being said, she was aware that there were more...unusual tastes and scandalous practices in the world, and she wracked her brain trying to recall any of them in an effort to anticipate what Erik would consider "too disgusting".

As a young girl in the conservatoire, she remembered the older girls asking their patrons or boyfriends to enter them the "other way" in an effort to remain virgins or keep from getting pregnant. Of course, she also had male friends who only wanted to be with other men and this was the only option they had. It seemed quite painful and dirty to her at the time and now she wondered if she could possibly attempt something like that if this was what Erik had in mind.

Then there were the wild tales Sorelli would tell of her numerous lovers, strange old men who came to the opera looking as dignified as an emperor but secretly wishing to be spanked with a hairbrush as if they were a naughty child or could only be aroused if she rained insults on them.

And who could forget that one outrageous gentleman who was completely obsessed with the dancer's feet and had a pair of her pointe shoes boiled and served to him at a restaurant as if it were a fine meal?

When asked about the incident later, he had no shame in it and even recommended a wine to pair with his strange supper. After that, anyone who wanted to make quick enemies of Sorelli would send her a bottle of that particular drink.

The worst thing she had ever heard came from one of the other wives in her social circle. She and the other ladies would spend many an afternoon at some wildly popular and expensive cafe or restaurant, catching up and gossiping, and the topic of conversation frequently turned to their husbands.

This particular woman shared her husband's shocking and frankly obscene requests. He begged her to relieve herself in a bourdaloue and then pour the contents of it over him as he sat in his bath. If this was anything close to what Erik had in mind, Christine would struggle to face it but face it she would.

Regardless of his request, she would rather it were out in the open instead of sitting unspoken inside of him. Besides, they had come this far - why not just come out with it?

"Erik, dear…" She cuddled close to him, softly caressing his cheek in an attempt to tease the truth out of him. "Again, the worst I could say is no, and you would respect that. You never know - even if I'm, err, unable to perform your request, maybe we could come to a compromise…?"

Realizing that he was backed into a corner, he sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you…"

She sat up, eager and ready to hear whatever he had to say. Erik had gone completely pink in the cheeks and a tiny furrow was slowly deepening between his eyebrows.

"I would like...a kiss."

"A kiss?" Christine exclaimed. "I kiss you every day!" To demonstrate, she bent and kissed him on the lips.

He remained bright pink as she pulled back. "I would like to be kissed in...a particular location."

Christine quickly went over the parts of his anatomy that she wouldn't want to kiss, then steeled herself for the answer. "Where?"

"I told you it was too disgusting!" He writhed under her scrutiny.

" _Where?_ "

"I can't ask this of you, Christine! It's too awful! Please don't make me say such things…"

"Just point to where you want to be kissed if you can't tell me," she huffed, impatient but determined to get an answer.

Erik grumbled, resigned to his humiliation. He raised his hand and extended his index finger. Christine's eyes were riveted to it, watching its trajectory. Good, it kept going above the belt line, higher, higher, until it landed on the little cartilage nub that projected just a bit over the hole where his nose should be. The moment his finger touched it he quickly brought his hand back to the mattress, his face completely red now, ready to be rebuked and ridiculed for his distasteful desires. Christine was shocked - not by his request but because _this_ is what he considered too outrageous a demand to ask of her.

"Have I never kissed you there?" Relieved that it wasn't as bad as anticipated, she lowered her voice, practically purring as she lay herself across his chest to bring her lips to his forehead. "It's so...adorable! I've always loved this little thing."

"...adorable…?" He voice was barely a squeak.

"Very." She delivered a single sweet kiss to the tiny nub. The moment her lips met this supposedly forbidden flesh, she felt him shudder beneath her. "Oh, Erik, you _are_ quite silly. I don't think this is disgusting at all...This part of you is cute!"

She gave it another quick kiss. A half whimper- half moan came from the back of his throat and Christine realized exactly what this simple action did to him.

"...You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" She let her next kiss linger as her hand walked down under the covers to find out just how much he liked what she was doing. He gasped as her hand pushed away the sheets and closed around his stiffening member. Her kisses slowly trailed up and down his face, always pausing on the little projection, as she steadily stroked him to full firmness.

"You see, dear? I can be quite reasonable, can't I?" She smirked as he hastily nodded. His eyes squeezed closed and another stuttering groan escaped his lips. Oh, how she loved to have him at her mercy like this - and how she longed to be at his.

He shifted around, trying to work the hand not around her waist between her legs but she pushed it away. "Don't worry - you'll get your chance to return the favor later. Right now, I want you to enjoy yourself...I want you to tell me what else you like…" She kissed up and down his malformed cheek, always coming back to the little bit of cartilage, giving it extra attention.

"What more could I possibly want - ?" He sighed, arching under her ministrations.

"I won't know if you don't tell me," she said as she started to apply more force on the downward stroke, adding a twist of the wrist. "Is there something else you haven't told me about? Come on...just say it…"

"I...I can't...It's too much…"

"Do you want another kiss?"

He gave a soft cry.

"Where?"

He writhed, both from the pleasure of her concentrated caresses and the lingering embarrassment of his hidden desires. Christine picked up the pace.

" _Where?_ "

She kissed his nub once more, pressing the length of her body against his. The hand at her waist pulled her closer, his fingers pressing into her flesh. As she nuzzled him, her nose grazed the thick skin at the edge of the depression on the side of his head. The moment her soft breath passed over it, he bucked beneath her.

"Oh...Is this another place you'd like to be kissed…?" she murmured, unable to repress her smile when she heard his helpless whimper. She trailed soft kisses from his brow to his temple while her hand worked harder, faster.

Her breath once more warmed this sensitive patch of skin and bone. She wriggled her other hand free from between them to brush his silky grey hair away, then leaned in to give the ridge of skin a gentle kiss.

He gasped, his fingers on her waist now clawing at her. Feeling bold, she ran her hot tongue along the rim between skin and bone. Before she could continue exploring, he seized, his head falling back as a loud moan issued from the back of his throat and he suddenly came across his stomach and chest. Christine, caught a bit off guard, continued to pump his cock until he was fully spent.

Leaving him a moment to recover, she primly cleaned him up with a handkerchief and then nestled back into his side with a smile of smug satisfaction on her face. After a few moments, Erik tightened his embrace, peppering her forehead and hair with kisses of gratitude.

"Oh, Christine -! You're too good to me! I'll never truly deserve you!"

"Maybe so," she said teasingly, her fingertips returning to his chest, lightly drawing soft circles on his skin.

"If there is anything that you want - anything! - you must not hesitate to ask it of me! Please - I want to be certain you are satisfied in every way!"

Christine smirked to herself; she loved it when things came together so beautifully.

"Well, actually, Erik," she said, keeping her voice hesitant and lady-like. "There might be one little thing I've had on my mind…"

"Whatever you request, I won't deny you! Please tell me," he said, drawing her closer.

"I would really like it if you took a bit more initiative with these things...You know, took control more often."

"Christine," his voice was passionate, determined. "If this is what you want then I shall give it to you. Tell me exactly and in great detail how you would like me to take control and I will be certain to fulfill your every requirement."

Christine sighed and dropped her head to his chest.


	2. Thrill Ride

Erik despised mirrors. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that he hated his reflection in mirrors because what he and Christine had in front of them at the moment was very nice indeed. He drank in her reflection, her eyes closed, the lashes pressed against her flushed cheeks, her lips - still stained with a bit of rouge - parted to allow sweet little gasps to escape from her throat. What was advantageous in this position - behind her at her vanity - was that he was tall enough and the vanity mirror was short enough that he didn't have to see his own reflection at all.

It was only Christine - slightly bent over, her pale breasts with their rosy nipples adorned with anneaux de sein visible from her chemise that he had peeled open and left bunched around her waist, her hands balled into fists on the tabletop - that he longed to see reflected. The only evidence that he existed was the sight of his strange hands wandering over her like skeletal intruders. Everything about him was offensively different to her perfection and yet...and yet, she loved him, allowed him to love her, to make love to her as they were doing now. In fact, she encouraged it and initiated it, beginning with innocently asking him to come help her with a troublesome necklace.

He came to their bedroom to greet her after she had returned from one of her social functions - "necessary evils", she called them - and with a few flicks of his deft fingers had liberated her from the gown she had been trussed up in all evening. She sighed as he slipped the silk from her shoulders and murmured a little thanks as he helped her step out of it and took it away to hang it up. She called him back over, and, standing before the vanity in just her underpinnings, asked him to help remove the jewels around her neck.

He wasn't sure why he felt so guilty when he felt a surge of desire gazing at her lovely form accentuated by her satin corset, her wispy chemise, her lace-trimmed drawers, her darling embroidered stockings. She was his wife, after all! Was it so wrong to be so incredibly and deeply attracted to her?

One slender hand came around the back of her head to lift up the stray curls that had escaped from her chignon, the clean line of her neck interrupted by the stubborn clasp. From there, she applied some artful sighs, angled her hips back against him as he fumbled with the latch on the necklace, then reached a hand around behind her to where his desire was growing more evident and that's how he found himself in this situation.

She obviously wanted him and yet he always felt deep in the back of his mind that one day she would come to her senses and realize that she shared her life with a monster. Ah - even now he had to catch himself! One of his traitorous hands had wandered to her smooth, white throat, the fingers curling around almost all the way around. It seemed as if she even tilted her head back a little to better give him access to this sensitive stretch of skin but surely that was only his disgusting imagination! He loved to feel her voice vibrating at the joining of the base of his fingers and palm but he knew it must seem that he was trying to hurt her.

Feeling her sweet sighs reverberating with each thrust thrilled him deeply but he quickly moved his fingers down over her clavicle, dropping between her breasts before drifting over to one of the anneaux de sein, this one connected to the other by a gold chain with pearls. As he slowly flicked and fidgeted with the ring that ran through the sensitive nipple flesh, Christine let out a moan that cracked in her golden throat with pleasure. The first time his fingers and teeth and tongue hit upon these little surprises, he was properly shocked. He remembered well - she gave a little laugh as if it was just any old piece of jewelry and told him that many of the fine ladies of Paris had them but that it was something of a scandal in society still. If Christine could accept such unconventional practices, then why was it difficult for him to understand that she could accept him?

There was a little peculiar request that stuck in mind as of late, that bothered him more than usual...She had asked him to take more initiative in the relationship, to take more control, and yet when he asked her to outline those boundaries and explain what that meant, she gave a little sigh and then seemingly wanted to move on. He had waited for more information but she never provided any further context.

Control...His whole life had been about control. Controlling the desire to fling off the mask his mother had forced on him, controlling his fear while tormented in his cage, controlling his murderous impulses when released from his chains.

And when he lost control, well...those were some of the most shameful moments of his entire existence. The things that he had done to Christine in his darkest hours still haunted him and no matter how many decades he put between himself and that most shameful incident, he always felt that his treacherous self was seconds away from betraying him. No, he was most careful and cautious to give Christine her liberty first and foremost, to defer to her in all things, to let her lead the way.

Besides, what would he do with any control that he didn't already do? He would move the moon and the stars to please her, would bend time itself if he had to, all she had to do was ask. And yet she wanted to give him control? No, it was better in her hands. He was only worried about controlling himself and keeping any dark desires that might be swimming around in his mind at bay.

Now his hand was creeping down, skimming skin that quivered at his touch, until his fingers found the slit within her drawers. As he began stroking her in the place that most brought her pleasure a bit quicker than his thrusts, she gasped. Her hand flew to his, her little fingers pressing urgently into the sinew and tendons at the back of his hand as if to say that yes, he had found the right spot, now stay there.

Her eyes drifted open and met his in the reflection, glazed with pleasure, unfocused and fluttering. They rolled back and the lids closed tightly once more as a few beautiful moans came from her parted lips. She tilted her head back momentarily, her hair brushing across his exposed face, before she dropped further forward, her hips pressing back against his.

Her hair, her glorious hair - how he adored it! She was so unlike him in so many ways but this was by far the one way that excited him the most. He had chestnut brown hair as a child but around the time he started changing from a boy to a man, it turned grey and then mostly fell away, leaving him with sparse clumps and stray strands. Christine, however, had a beautiful head full of dark brown curls that somehow always had notes of tonka bean, vanilla, and cinnamon in them and he wanted nothing more than to bury his bare face in them forever.

Abruptly, this scent, coupled with his recent concerns about control, mingled in his mind and dredged up a rather upsetting memory, a more recent time when he lost control of himself in his all-consuming desire for Christine and almost suffered a humiliation beyond imagination. He suddenly could picture it quite clearly...

.

.

.

The mid-March morning was absolutely flawless and he raced under a startlingly blue sky from his tower at the center of the park to the hotel at the far end. In a few month's time, it would be crawling with tourists and visitors but for now, it was perfectly empty.

Waiting for the elevator to reach him and then take him up to the penthouse suite was excruciating; he had been anticipating this day for ages and he was practically vibrating with excitement. He steadied himself before giving a firm rap on the suite's ornately carved door. He heard a quick succession of little footsteps coming from behind the door before Gustave threw it open, beaming from ear to ear.

"Good morning, Gustave - Today is the day - the most perfect day! - to do all of our important tasks that simply must be done." He kept his voice steady and his hands clasped politely but inside, he wished to smile just as wide as the boy before him.

"Maman! Mr. Y is here and I'm going to - "

" - Not before you finish your breakfast," Christine's voice floated out from the dining room. "Come sit back down and bring Mr. Y with you."

Gustave crinkled his nose in frustration but Erik gave him a nod to reinforce her command. Erik followed Gustave as he trudged unhappily back to his seat at Christine's side and began shoveling the remainder of his food into his face as quickly as possible. Erik crept into the room and made a small bow before taking his place at Christine's other elbow.

How incredible it was to have her so near! He had dreamed for years and years of spending every morning just like this and it was still so unreal to him. Initially, she was supposed to leave as soon as the last note left her throat but then, there was the terrible accident. Her recovery had taken weeks, months! And after she was back on her feet, the holidays had come around and she simply couldn't leave the New York social scene at such a crucial time. After that, she said it was too cold to travel and she was afraid the effect the frigid ocean air would have on her health not to mention her voice. Now it was late spring, the beginning of the season was barely over a month away, he was once more working on a composition for her, and she was sitting here still.

Oh, she always warned him she was going back to Paris eventually and he shouldn't get used to her and Gustave being around, and things still weren't very clear with respect to her absent idiot husband, yet she seemed to always have an excuse to stay a little longer. He wasn't complaining, but he wasn't letting his hopes soar to the heavens either. For now, he was content to sit at her side as he was doing now, drinking in her loveliness. She was very casually attired, wearing only her dressing gown and wrapped in a sumptuous robe, ruffles blossoming at her throat and wrists, reading a newspaper, the morning sun playing at the edges of her curls. His heart stopped when her blue eyes flicked up over the top of the newspaper to meet his.

"Good morning, Erik," she said.

"Good morning." His fingers wanted to fidget so he knitted them together and pressed his hands down to his lap. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, thank you." She primly folded the paper and put it down on the table before her.

The maid came from the kitchen to refill Christine's teacup and gave him a barely concealed scowl. She didn't like him for many reasons - perhaps today it was because no gentleman should be seeing a lady before she was properly dressed - but she knew who paid her salary and thus kept her disgust to a minimum as best she could manage. With a grunt and a roll of the eyes, she retreated to the kitchen again, knowing better than to ask if he wanted any breakfast himself.

"Gustave, please chew and swallow with some decorum. At your pace, you'll choke and then you won't get to do whatever it is you and Mr. Y are up to today." She turned back to Erik. "And just what is it again you're doing today?"

"Today? Ah, today is a very, very important day!" Erik could feel the natural showman in him coming to life, giving his voice extra color. "Today is the first day that all of the rides are assembled, inspected, and ready for testing. I'm fortunate to have someone of Gustave's esteem and intellect to help me ensure all of them are perfectly calibrated for opening day."

Christine's eyebrow arched high on her forehead. "Is that so? You're going to have Gustave ride the attractions all day? No wonder both of you are just about ready to evaporate with excitement."

"It's truly integral to the park, I assure you," Erik said, nodding. Gustave vigorously shook his head in agreement, flinging a bit of scrambled egg across the table.

Christine wrinkled her nose a bit then gave a little sigh. "Well go on then. I guess it's better that you're not too full if you're going to be spinning around all day."

"Thank you, maman!" Gustave sprung from his seat and landed a scrambled egg-tainted kiss on her cheek before dashing off to get his coat.

"I understand that it's very serious, rigorous work you two will be engaged in but do try to have some fun, Erik," she said with a wink. That wink practically undid him, making his heart feel as if it were one of the rides on the midway. He rose, made a little farewell bow, then went to collect his assistant for the day's work.

"Erik? What are you doing all the way over here?"

Christine's voice practically made him jump out of his skin. She and Miss Fleck typically took morning exercises together and it seemed they must've finished their routine, decided to catch up with them, and now they joined he and Gustave at a most inopportune moment.

"Gustave...are you alright?" Christine approached her son who sat huddled next to Erik on a park bench looking like a new sailor out at sea for the first time - clammy sweat on his brow, green in the cheeks.

"...I'm fine…" The boy's voice was barely more than a squeak as he tried to muster a brave face for his mother. He was most definitely not fine and it was unfortunately the fourth go on the loop-de-loop that did it. It's just that Erik was caught up in Gustave having so much fun that when the boy begged him to pull the lever once more he did so without considering the gyroscopic limits of a ten year old's stomach. He could feel Christine's exasperated gaze on him and dared not meet her eye.

"Poor kid…" Fleck patted Gustave's knee. "It's all fun and games until the coney dog comes back up."

"I'm...I'm really alright!" He straightened up, taking on a reassuring tone.

Christine sighed. "Maybe that's enough 'work' for today…"

"No! I'm fine! Honest!" He leapt from the bench desperately trying to prove his stability and stumbling only a bit. "See? I'm not ready to quit! We barely got started anyways!"

Christine narrowed her eyes, sensing a tantrum coming on. Erik remained silent, eyes sheepishly glued to the ground. He wasn't about to even begin dreaming of interfering.

"Well...I was rather hoping to join you and help...what was it? Calibrate the rides? As long as you're fit to continue…"

"Really?" Gustave clasped his mother's hands. "There's so many rides I still haven't tried out yet - the steeplechase, the rocket sled, the ghost train!"

"What about you, Erik?" She asked. "Which ride do you like?"

Now it was safe to lift his eyes to meet hers. "Me? The carousel, of course -"

"I know that's your absolute favorite but we've ridden than one already. Is there anything else you like?"

He scratched his cheek for a moment, pondering. "The great wheel is spectacular. I imagine one can see quite far at the top."

"You _imagine_?" Christine asked. "Does that mean you've never been to the top?"

Erik stood, straightening himself out. "Christine, if I am on the ride, I certainly can't operate it at the same time."

"I could operate the ride," Gustave offered.

"Gustave, I'm sorry, but no," Erik and Christine both said in unison. Gustave blinked. Fleck raised an eyebrow.

Christine continued, "There's not a one that you can ride without having to - "

"Oh! I know the perfect thing!" Fleck snapped her fingers as if an epiphany had just come to her. "The big slide, all the way at the back. That doesn't need any electricity to power it or anyone to operate it, just a mat and some momentum."

"It's the best!" Gustave threw his arms up in a burst of excitement, all traces of gastronomic discomfort gone. "It's got all these bumps on it and if you're going real fast over the last one, you can go flying!"

"That sounds fun! Erik, let's try that one!" Chrisfine flashed her most winning smile that always made his resolve crumble and he knew there was no resisting.

"...as you wish," he said through tight lips. Gustave gave an exuberant cry and started leading his mother to the back of the park where the giant slide bordered the seaside. Erik turned his attention downward, where Miss Fleck had a smile of her own, this one devilish and tweaked up at the corners. Erik hoped she could see in what was visible of his expression his most fervent desire to plant his bespoke boot in her backside and send her sailing across the sea until she landed posterior-first atop of the Eiffel Tower. She scurried away from his blazing eyes with a triumphant laugh, calling for Gustave and Christine to wait up for her.

Erik fumbled with the keys at the gate to the slide, half out of reluctance and half out of dread. Christine certainly couldn't mean for him to attempt the slide himself. How absurd!

"Just pick the lock, Erik, dear," she said with a hint of amusement.

"Does he know how to pick locks?" Fleck asked.

"Oh, Erik can do anything he puts his mind to," Christine said, nodding.

"Gosh, he's useful," Fleck's devilish smile grew wider.

"I found the key," Erik said through gritted teeth, holding open the gate for the three to pass. Gustave bounded in first, dashing to grab one of the mats used to go down the slide from the storage bin.

"This is a two person ride," Fleck said with a wink. "Let's you and me show them how it's done, kid."

The boy was beaming with excitement and Erik had to admit he felt the same stirrings of joy he always felt when Gustave enjoyed himself so much at the park - _his_ park.

Gustave and Fleck raced up the tight staircase to the top, gave a little wave, then got on the mat with Fleck sitting in front and launched themselves down the slide. Because they both didn't weigh very much together, they didn't pick up that much speed on the way down although they did get enough lift on the last hump to make Christine gasp and clutch at Erik's arm. All thoughts of being forced onto the slide faded fast as he felt those little fingers latch onto him. The moment was all too brief; she let go as soon as Gustave came running back.

"Maman, you have to try it! It's _so_ easy and _so_ fun!" Gustave pulled on Christine's sleeve, begging her to join him.

"Alright, alright," Christine laughed as Gustave gathered up the mat and they ascended the tower.

"Aren't they cute?" Fleck was at his side, watching as the two at the top gave a wave. "It's nice that they have fun like this, isn't it?"

Erik wasn't sure what she was getting at. He raised his hand to salute them and answered only, "It is my one wish that Miss Daaé and Gustave enjoy themselves."

Fleck nodded and mercifully didn't correct him as she sometimes did when he called Christine "Miss Daaé". She was officially Madame La Vicomtesse de Chagny but he would die before he ever spoke those words aloud.

Christine and Gustave made their descent, gathering more speed and getting decent lift on the bumps, collapsing in a heap at the bottom, laughing so hard they were crying. Her skirts were all askew, her stockings visible almost to the knee, petticoat ruffles flapping in the wind. Erik's heart was lifting as if it had just gone down the slide with them.

"Erik! Erik!" Christine waved him over. He obediently trotted to her side and helped her to her feet. "Go with Gustave down the slide! You'll love it!"

 _Down the slide?!_

How _degrading_! How _absurd_!

He did _not_ ride rides, _especially_ not a giant slide in _broad daylight_!

But Christine's sparkling eyes and Gustave's eagerness were not something he could simply refuse. This was how he found himself carrying the mat and following Gustave up the tower. At the top, he looked down at the two women. They both wore matching mischievous expressions that pulled the corners of his mouth down.

 _Two troublemakers cut from the same cloth!_

He hoped they were enjoying themselves, abusing poor old Erik like this.

"You have to sit behind me," Gustave said, settling on the mat. "Just put your legs on either side."

Erik was completely undone by this situation. This position was very unusual, very close. What if the boy recoiled at his touch? Awkward and unsure, he sunk down behind Gustave, stretching his long legs out on the sides.

"You've got to hold on," Gustave said, wrapping Erik's large hand around his midsection as if it wasn't an issue at all, just a natural thing to do. "Now push off from the back."

Erik, still reeling from the way the boy so casually accepted his touch, gave them a shove. On the way down, he slapped a hand to his head, certain he could feel the wind trying to get in through the edges of his wig. The tails of his morning coat flapped behind him in a most undignified way. But with Gustave sandwiched between his front and his hand, he felt every gleeful whoop and cry; it was truly something special to experience his joy in such a palpable manner.

"Wasn't that amazing?" Christine said, rushing to meet them at the bottom. "Well, Erik? Did you enjoy your first ride at Phantasma?"

Erik, still stunned by the experience, quietly nodded.

"I have a great idea," said Fleck, another naughty grin spreading across her face. Erik began considering how well he could get along with only two trusted employees instead of three. "We could race each other and see who gets to the bottom the fastest. We could do boys versus girls!"

"Let's!" At the suggestion, Gustave had already sprung into action, grabbing up the mat and racing towards the stairs. Christine and Fleck followed and Erik, seeing how things were, trudged reluctantly behind them.

At the top, Fleck and Christine took to one mat, Erik and Gustave to the other. They counted to three and then flung themselves down the slide. The boys' team, weighing more than the girls, picked up more momentum and easily slid into the end before they did. It didn't seem to matter much; Erik looked on as they all giggled and laughed, practically doubling over with delight. Erik had watched many of his park's patrons do so, had carefully observed reactions and behaviors to relentlessly refine each experience for maximum enjoyment, but he had never been a participant. He could only conclude that right now, they were all having fun together, that he was _part of_ the fun, that they had wanted to have fun _with_ him.

Erik wasn't sure if he had ever had fun like this before...His playtime as a child involved only pleasing his masters and his adult life was filled with solitary pursuits. Even the fun he previously had with Gustave was different; more about what they could make or do than just this sort of mindless yet enjoyable activity. When he was only a voice, he and Christine had had fun trading stories and fairytales but it was nothing like this, with pure exhilaration, watching her gasp for air as she was laughing, her cheeks gone pink from the rush. It was a bit overwhelming, and he struggled to process the sensation.

"Hey - you know what we should do next?" Fleck once more felt the need to volunteer another idea. "We should do team Phantasma versus team Daaé!"

This insane suggestion was met with enthusiastic approval to Erik's dismay. The three were off to the top of the slide before he could derail this madness and he found himself obediently hauling up the mats behind them.

Christine and Gustave had no issues getting into position but Erik looked down at Fleck, poised on the mat before him, and hesitated. He had never touched one of his employees before, let alone sidled up to them in such close quarters.

Fleck glanced back over her shoulder. "Well, boss? I don't bite, I promise."

He grumbled and got into position, nervous about being so close to an employee. A healthy distance was preferable lest they see behind his facade, that he wasn't the powerful person he had built himself to be. This was far too familiar. As he gingerly sat behind her and placed a hand at her middle, Fleck gave a yelp, and he quickly retracted it.

"Geez! Are you OK, boss? Your hand is ice cold!" Regardless of her initial gripe, she grabbed his hand and placed it at her front once more. There was another countdown and off they went down the slide once more, yelling and screaming with joy the whole way as Erik desperately tried to keep his wig from flying off and his hand from strangling Fleck for her idiotic suggestions. At the bottom, he once more observed them all laughing together. His heart felt light, too, and he cautiously allowed himself to feel a bit...free.

His hesitant elation came on too soon; Fleck had another wild idea rattling around inside her devious brain.

"You know what I just thought of?" Fleck addressed Christine directly, her partner in crime. "The heavier you are, the more momentum you have and the higher you go. Since you and Mr. Y are the tallest people here, I bet if you went down the slide together, you'd _really_ go flying on that last bump!"

 _So! This is what she was building to!_

Erik felt his eyes narrowing into slits but when Christine glanced at him and shrugged, a lighthearted smile playing on her lips, his focus shifted.

"Sure, why not? Let's see how we do," she said, getting back on her feet and heading towards the stairs.

"I bet you'll go really high!" Gustave was bouncing with innocent excitement.

Miss Fleck was bouncing right next to him, nowhere near as pure of heart. "I bet they'll go sailing right into the ocean, kid!"

 _Oh, she thought she was so clever!_ Erik was sure he was going to chew through his tongue in trying to keep the urge to simply fling HER into the cool blue Atlantic at bay.

Christine ran on ahead of him up the stairs, her petticoats flapping almost at eye level at every twist and turn. Had he really made the stairs so tight? Why, women's modesty could be imperiled, showing off the delicate lace edging on their underskirts and their ankles encased in supple leather boots and a glimpse of stocking above that and —

His train of thought jumped the tracks as they finally reached the top of the slide and the reality of the situation truly dawned on him. Gustave and Fleck looked like two specks at the end of the crested waves of slick metal. Christine tugged on the corner of the mat in his hand, causing him to refocus. He lay the mat on the edge of the slide, just as he had done with Gustave and with Fleck. She sat on the mat, tucking her skirts under her legs so they didn't flap as much and waited for him to join her.

He had not been this close, this intimate with Christine for a long, long time. True, they had shared a stolen kiss in her dressing room, and he had swept her into his arms then, pressing her to him. Although it was an electric moment, seared forever in his mind, it was too brief. The only other time he had been so close to her recently was when he thought she was dying and he cradled her in his arms at the pier after her accident. Being so near to Christine like this was daunting, dangerous.

 _Get a hold of yourself!_ He chastised himself. _You can do anything! This is just a little ride, over very quickly - it means_ _nothing._

With a decisive nod, he sank down and edged up close to her, settling her between his long legs, her back at his chest. The moment he knew he was in real danger was when she tipped her head back and her soft, dark brown hair, piled high in a simple chignon after her exercises, brushed across his face.

"Are you ready, Erik, dear?" She asked, securing his arm around her.

Ah - to hear her voice reverberating against his chest was intoxicating! And he would gladly pitch himself from the top of the platform as long as she asked him to with an "Erik, dear" at the end! Oh, and how easily she took his hand and held it to her tightly with no mention of how cold his touch was, how bony his fingers were! He was in true peril at this point with no way to escape. She urged him to give them the final shove and off they went.

At the top of the slide, he was a man in control of his actions, as much at the helm of his destiny as a person coerced into going down a giant slide could be. By the time he reached the bottom, he was a ruined wretch, a wreck of a man, the definition of disaster. These are the events that occurred during the seconds-long ride:

On the primary descent, as they picked up speed, the force of their fall pressed her body back into his. It was all too much for Erik and from the thrill of the ride, his control slipped further and further from his grasp.

On the first bump, he felt himself physically react to her motion against him, responding in a way he was powerless to command, and cursed women's fashion for abandoning the bustle with its layers of protective fabric that might save his dignity. He prayed to any deity that was listening that Christine couldn't feel him against her as she was just wearing a simple skirt with minimum petticoats. He was only a man - surely she could be understanding!

On the second bump, they had really started to slide faster than their previous runs. Christine gave a little cry of joy that nearly dismantled him for he could feel her voice - her achingly beautiful voice! - in his hand and against his chest. He had hoped his mask would act as some sort of barrier against the feel of her but it was worthless; the intoxicating scent of her hair came up through the false nose and filled up the hole at the center of his face. Her curls floated against his bare cheek, teasing tendrils of delight.

The scent of tonka bean, her little cries of joy, the feel of her in his arms and against his body immediately brought another kind of fun to the foreground of his mind, the kind of fun that a man and a woman could have together, the kind of fun that he and Christine had indulged in one desperate, moonless night. These memories were too potent and he had locked them deep inside of his mind, glimpsing them only in his weakest moments. Now his brain was flooded with sensation and these visions ran wild before his eyes.

On that frantic, dark night, she allowed him then to bury his bare face to her silky soft hair, to bury himself to the hilt in her warm, welcoming womanhood. Their arms were wrapped tight around each other, willing their union to be consummated down to a cellular level. Their bodies moved together in harmony, their souls joining through the conduit of the flesh.

On the last bump, the one that really sent them flying, Erik prayed that the truly obscene noise that escaped from his lips was covered by Christine's scream of delight. They coasted down the remainder of the stretch of slide and skid to a halt at the bottom.

"Erik...?"

He realized he was simply sitting at the foot of the slide, his eyes closed tight, chin to chest. Christine had turned around to face him, Fleck and Gustave looked on from the side.

How vulgar! How lewd! How debased was his mind! After suffering this immense humiliation, there was obviously nothing left for him to do but to shuffle off this mortal coil. Gustave and Christine would be alright without him; one of the very first things he had done upon discovering Gustave was his son was arranging his will so that everything went directly to him. He was a clever boy and Erik had written many notes about how best to run the park; no doubt he would continue to be a great success and he and Christine wouldn't have an unfulfilled need for the rest of their life.

He imagined a very sedate funeral, Christine lovely yet tragic in mourning garb, gazing at his prone form in a modest coffin. Gustave, bless his heart, was trying to be strong for his mother but a few tears were perched in his eyes. Maybe he would miss his strange friend Mr. Y, the man he would never know was his true father...That was really for the best, at this point. He imagined that Fleck was there also, doing penance, saying tearfully _I didn't think it would kill him!_ to the other two in the trio.

Wait...what was this? A coroner appeared at the boundary of this fantasy. He bent towards Christine, whispering at the edge of her black veil _Madame, we wish to speak to you about the manner of this gentleman's death. You see, as we were removing his trousers, we found...well, this next part is not suitable for children. Perhaps if we could speak in private…?_

His will to live surged back and, heart pounding, he straightened up. Christine, Fleck, and Gustave gave a little gasp as he seemingly roused. Good God - he couldn't expire without destroying all of the evidence of his disgusting loss of control over his lustful desires! How tragic - he really liked these trousers, had sadly only worn them less than a handful of times. And today he had chosen to wear brand new silk drawers - not because he expected anyone to see them, it was just important to him to feel his best which he certainly didn't feel at this moment in time. He squinted past the concerned faces of the three to the beach beyond them and considered walking straight into the ocean until the waves swallowed him down.

"Erik...Are you alright?" Christine caught his attention and peered into his eyes.

Erik drew breath to deliver the bold-faced lie that yes, of course he was fine, and try to buy time to somehow think of a way to escape from this Hell on earth. His voice —his powerful, compelling voice that captivated kings, cats, and every creature in between — failed him. Instead of reassuring her that he was in perfect health and that there was nothing out of order at all, he made a noise somewhere between "hap" and "blep". Mortified once more, his chin sank back to his chest.

He was close to asking Christine to scoot to the side so that he could curl up in a ball and have a good cry when she leaned in close, speaking in a half-whisper.

"Poor Erik - you're not used to going on rides, are you? It was a bit too much for one day…" When she spoke, she did so in Swedish, a language Fleck knew nothing of and Gustave had neglected to master but that he had picked up for her sake. It was meant just for him.

But what was this? She thought that he was suffering a sickness of the body and not the mind? She didn't suspect that he was a filthy creature with no control over his impure physical reactions to having such a divine woman pressed against his touch-starved wreck of a body?

He glanced up and saw that Gustave and Fleck were gazing at him with concerned expressions, not a hint of disgust at all in their eyes. If even Fleck didn't suspect him, he could still wiggle his way out of this shameful situation! Having them think he was motion sick on his own ride still took him down a few pegs but certainly not the freefall to the depths of shame that he had truly tumbled to!

Still thinking this was the case, Christine gave a little nod, understanding in her eyes. He did not deserve what happened next.

Christine turned in his arms and dropped her head back on his shoulder, her hands fluttering from her forehead to her heart.

"Oh!" She exclaimed with a great sigh. "I'm...I'm feeling faint, Erik!"

"...you are?" He could hardly process what was occurring and there was the matter of her hair still dancing distractingly across his cheek. Gustave and Fleck's attention shifted.

"I...I think with my exercise this morning and going up and down so many times that I might have overexerted myself…" Where other thespians would serve up pure ham with a script as cliche as this, Christine was proving herself to be an adept and convincing actress.

"Maman!" Gustave took her hands in his, concern creasing his brow.

"I'm so sorry...I don't mean to break up the fun but…"

"It's no problem! You need to take care of yourself! You're practically still in recovery!" Now Fleck was fussing over her.

 _My God! She's brilliant!_

Not for the first time and certainly not the last, Erik felt himself fall completely in head over heels in love with Christine. He could never repay her for this kindness, a kindness that went much further than she would hopefully ever know. He helped her get to her feet and as she leaned on Gustave, she apologized once more, saying that she was going back to her suite to lie down. Erik offered to escort her but she mercifully declined, and she and Gustave went back across the park to their hotel. The relief he felt crashed over him like an immense wave. There was a little twinge of sadness, though; he would have to burn every item of clothing he was wearing to purge himself of this shameful, horrible experience.

"...Boss…"

He had almost forgotten Fleck was there at his side. When she looked up at him now, she appeared quite remorseful, a far cry from the little devil she had been all afternoon.

"...I didn't know you would...I didn't mean to...What I'm saying is…" She stuttered, seemingly searching for an apology.

"Enough." With one stern point and half a snarl, he sent her skittering away to her own quarters. If she knew what was good for her, she would keep her mouth shut and not breathe a word about what happened to her companions.

Alone in the park - his domain - with no one the wiser regarding the horrendous, shameful crime his mind had committed against his body, he felt himself regain control over the situation. His next stop - the incinerator.

.

.

.

Christine was reaching her crescendo; her cries were growing louder, her hips pushed back against him with increasing urgency. He stroked her faster with the hand that he had tucked between her legs, watching her in the reflection on her vanity. Seeing her find her release entranced him, added to his own pleasure. She crested over her climax, crying out and falling forward onto the vanity table. He followed her lead to his own bliss, moaning into her hair as he came.

He sagged over her, holding her up with one arm around her waist, the other hand joining hers on the vanity for support. He pressed his cheek to her hair and, with her back against his front, felt their breathing sync up and slow down. Bent over, he was now visible in the mirror and he caught the sight of his own hated reflection. He hadn't made up today, not expecting to see anyone, and without the definition makeup gave him, his features were washed out, blurred at the edges, wild. That was on his best side; the other side had only grown more discolored, more gnarled with age. What was left of his hair stuck up all around his scalp in ridiculous tufts, except where a few strands were plastered to his forehead with perspiration.

Even if he hadn't been given such a face, all of the black impulses inside of him were truly repulsive and dangerous. He had told her everything and yet she had still accepted him, her thread of compassion and love leading him through the dark labyrinth of his mind.

Christine raised her head, turning her face to nuzzle him. Her perfect features were lit from within with an all-natural rosy glow. Her brilliant blue eyes met his in the reflection and she smiled up at him. He would never until the day he died understand why she adored him, why she allowed him to worship her as he so desperately desired.

Unable to take the sight of his face, even with the way she was gazing so lovingly at him, he began to pull back. He intended to gather her up and take her to bed but before he could follow through, she asked him to do the same, negating his actions. That brought him back to her request, that he take initiative, take control more often...


	3. The Mannequin

Christine gave herself one last glance in the bathroom mirror and nodded in approval. This particular silky, diaphanous lingerie she had picked up on her last trip to Paris was a sound investment. Christine was lucky to have snagged it before it went to someone else. The soft, fluttering ruffles on a collar that barely stayed on her shoulders, the nipped waist, the flowing skirt that was practically translucent — Madame Lachance has really outdone herself with this creation! Christine centered the two single teardrop pearls she had fastened to her anneux de sienne so that they stood out, straining against the delicate pure white material, patted a bit of rouge on the center of her lips, and steadied herself.

It wasn't so unusual for her to come back from her once a year trip to Paris with several of these sweet underthings squirreled away in her wardrobe trunks. She'd slowly bring them out over the year and it was always a fun little surprise. She wasn't nervous about debuting a new bit of lingerie; she was more apprehensive about what she was going to propose tonight. If she didn't ask, though, she would never receive…She squared her shoulders, primped her curls, and opened the door.

Her husband had just finished hanging up his coat and was in the process of undoing his waistcoat. With his back to her, she took a moment to arrange herself and cleared her throat.

"Erik, dear," She called to him in her sweetest tone. She paused, waiting for him to turn around and take her in. How she loved the expressions that always came across his face when she caught him like this! Surprise, approval, hunger - and then, obedience, waiting to be given the permission to approach her. He always loved well-made clothing with sumptuous materials and his eyes danced over her form, catching on each ruffle and stitch and pleat and edging. She smirked and sauntered over to him.

"Yes, Christine…?"

"I was thinking…" She took him by the hand, led him to the edge of the bed, sat him down, and then primly placed herself in his lap. "...that we could play a game."

He allowed her to remove his mask and wig and place them on the vanity, awaiting further instructions. She could practically feel his pulse pounding in his veins, his muscles tensing with desire.

"A game…?"

"I think you'll like it," she said. She playfully ran her fingers through his hair, teasing the edge of the depression on his head until she felt him shudder.

"Tell me more."

"Do you remember that silly doll you used to have? The one that frightened me half to death whenever it would tip over?"

His eyes narrowed. "...The medical manikin? It was more than a 'silly doll', you know; it was highly anatomically detailed, with removable organs, and cost me a pretty penny! It was hand-crafted and -"

"Yes, that's the one," Christine said, cutting him off before he got too worked up. "I thought to myself, wouldn't it be fun if I pretended to be a very anatomically correct doll and you could play with me however you wanted?"

"...How do you think I liked to play with the 'doll'?"

"Oh, I don't really care, Erik, I'm saying you could play with me...pretending to be a doll."

"What kind of unconscionable deviant do you think I am?"

"One who is always so much fun, dear," She dropped a kiss on the little nub above his nose in an effort to cool him off before her whole project went off the rails. My, but he could be so sensitive!

"Well…" The kiss seemed to mollify him a bit. "...What are the rules of the game?"

Feeling she had some momentum behind her idea, she pressed on. "In this game, since I would be a mannequin, I wouldn't be able to speak or move on my own. You would have to do all that for me."

"So…in this scenario, you are a doll and not an automaton. You can't walk on your own, only pose or stand still. Is that correct?" His fingertips had started to slide deliciously up and down her waist, her back, her thighs, discovering there were no drawers, only stockings. He worked the blue velvet ribbons of her garters between his thumb and forefinger through the fabric of the lingerie before letting his hands wander on.

"That's correct," she said, nodding. He did like games and he did like rules and he did like her...Perhaps her experiment would be a success!

"And I am to do anything I please to you?"

"Exactly."

"If you were my medical manikin, I would put you in a nice display cabinet and only take you out if I ever had a question regarding anatomical issues."

"Erik! I thought this could be fun…" Her voice trailed off as one of his hands was now at her hip and the other was searching through the gauzy skirt for the juncture between her legs.

"Hmm..." He looked up at her and she could almost see the mechanism of his mind whirring away behind his bright eyes. "So this is the scene - You are my brand new highly detailed anatomical doll…"

"Yes…"

"...and I am the perverse degenerate who uses you not in the way the manufacturer intended…"

"That's not what I mean!"

Erik gave a strange little chuckle and shifted her around a bit so that her back was more against his chest and her legs fell to either side of the knee she was perched on. He nuzzled her neck with the little cartilage nub she had kissed moments before as his hands kept wandering, wandering…

Her head easily fell against his shoulder and he pressed his smooth cheek to hers. She felt their breath syncing up with the slow, hypnotizing rising and falling of their lungs. Both of his hands skimmed up her body only to begin their descent again, one long, slow caress from her shoulders, over her breasts, down her stomach and hips, to her thighs. How was it that his pressure was both so firm and yet so light? She didn't care to understand the mechanics, she only knew that it felt magical.

Now his hands found the partition in her gown and his cool fingers met with the warm flesh of her thighs, bare above the garters and the edge of her stockings. His fingertips floated up to where her thighs met, the warm nest of dark brown curls, increasing the pressure of his touch and yet moving so achingly slow, taking his time approaching her center. She was slick with desire when he finally reached her, his fingers gliding easily in between her folds. The little sigh of approval that he made near her ear was divine. He continued, teasing all around where she wanted him to truly touch her, trying her patience.

Finally, with a firm, determined stroke, he pressed two fingers into her while two other fingers began circling her most sensitive flesh. It was almost as if he was off like a shot, striking up a pace that more than made up for his slow, laborious exploration. The previous teasing had worked her up so much, Christine was surprised that she could already feel her release quickly gaining on her, coming up fast from the distant horizon. Unable to help herself, she dropped her head further back on his shoulder and moaned in pleasure.

Abruptly, he removed his hands, bringing them to her waist. She sat up, incensed, aggrieved. How dare he stop at this crucial moment?

"Erik…?"

"Dolls do not make noises nor move, Christine. Am I wrong?"

She paused. "You're...you're right. It was my mistake."

His golden eyes were pinned to hers, sparkling with mischief, and she wondered, for the first but not the last time that evening, what she exactly she set in motion. She resettled against him and went limp once more, a proper mannequin.

She could almost feel the self-satisfaction radiating off of him as he pressed his cheek to hers again and his hands took up their tasks. He returned to the soft, languorous caresses, allowing his fingertips to dance over every inch of her. He kept at this for a while, never making another approach to the hot center that was aching to be touched.

"You know," he spoke, his voice a low purr in her ear. "My last manikin was quite unsteady and would fall over all the time. Let's test your structural stability."

Swiftly standing, he brought her to her feet, positioning her at the edge of the bed, the back of her legs pressing against where he was just sitting. He looked her up and down, appraising her, fussing here and there with her lingerie. Cocking his head to the side, he seemed to still feel she was lacking something...Inspiration seemed to suddenly strike and he walked off. She strained her eyes to see where he had gone to, wondering how long he would leave her standing there. Staying as still as as statue on her feet, with her almost painful need for release throbbing between her lets, she began to wonder if this game really was the best idea. She was relieved when he didn't make her wait long; he reappeared with a few flowers taken from one of the arrangements around the house and brought her hands up around the stems, placing the small bouquet in her grasp.

Satisfied, he took her by the shoulders and leaned in for a light, chaste kiss. She was sure to keep her lips still. His next kiss was more insistent, pulling her flush against him. Abruptly, he worked his knee between hers. She remained motionless, the flowers crushed between them. He pushed her feet apart inch by inch, leaving her in a wide legged stance. As he pulled back from their kiss, he smirked and Christine's heart fluttered. He seemed to be enjoying himself...Maybe a game was just what was needed to get him to loosen up!

She didn't have long to dwell on this though; he sank to his knees and found his way under her skirt, kissing the bits of exposed thigh he came across. His hands slid up the outside of her thighs as his lips and teeth skimmed over her sensitive skin. As his face pressed to her flesh, she was almost grateful she wasn't allowed to speak. She would never admit out loud how much the feel of his textured skin against hers thrilled her; he was far too sensitive for her to confess to such a thing. His kisses were creeping closer to where she needed the most attention, now at the the edge of her hip, now at the juncture of her thigh. Christine's stomach tightened with anticipation and she wondered how she would keep silent when he —-

His warm mouth closed over her hot center. Instantly, her breath caught in her throat and she focused on staying still. Landing a kiss directly on the little pearl at the apex of her sex, he first gave her a shot of direct pleasure before working his tongue between her lips, teasing her indirectly. It was almost pure misery the way he worked his tongue away from where she needed it, then brought his lips around her pearl before abandoning it again to nibble at her thighs, kiss her hips, and begin the approach once more.

He lavished her with attention, each pass of his tongue slowly eroding her concentration. Finally, he began intently focusing exactly where he knew she needed him to and a wave of relief cascaded within her as she felt her climax building. The control she exerted over her body affected her pleasure, magnifying it. Each restrained breath she drew seemed to gather up the building energy between her legs, redistributing it like currents of electricity through limbs she struggled to keep motionless .

Just as her knees began shaking, Erik pulled back, pushing away the fabric clinging to his head and shoulders. Because she was still holding the makeshift bouquet, she couldn't see very well what he was doing but she felt certain he must be staring up at her, watching her reactions from where he kneeled before her on the floor. What he was planning to do next, she wasn't quite sure; all she knew was she now had a pulsing, burning need that ached to be satisfied. She wondered if she broke the rules now to beg for that satisfaction if he would grant it to her and yet...the tension that this game created thrilled her even more than she had imagined. Being at his mercy was strangely both agonzing and liberating.

Erik planted a playful kiss on her trembling knee before rising to stand before her. "Just like my other manikin...Not very sturdy at all, are you?"

That sweet, teasing reprimand in his silky voice made her heart hammer in her chest with anticipation. She swallowed down a lump in her throat, each cell in her body begging for his touch. Cradling her head in one hand and supporting her waist with the other, he softly lowered her to the bed. He plucked the bouquet from her hands and tossed it to the side, sending petals scattering. He appeared over her for a moment, a strange smile playing on his uneven lips as he lowered her hands to the mattress and then sunk back down. Christine could only helplessly try to look downward, straining to see what he was doing as he drifted back down her body. The last thing she saw was the ruffled edge of her dress as he tossed it up around her thighs before he resumed his previous business.

This time, he didn't hold back, targeting exactly where her pleasure was building. While his tongue and lips took up this task with relish, two determined fingers easily worked their way inside of her. She was so ready, there was hardly any resistance, and they began moving in and out of her, curling as they did so, reaching a pleasure center deep within.

Committed to the rules of the game she laid down, she remained silent and still as her climax found her. She trembled, she shook, but she didn't move on purpose, even though she felt her back aching to arch into him, didn't make a sound even though she badly wanted to cry out his name. Her breath came ragged and broken, her palms pressed hard into the mattress in an attempt to anchor her as she spun off into her powerful release.

She didn't realize she had been squeezing her eyes shut, lost in the aftershocks of her gratification, until she heard a loud clatter nearby. Her eyes fluttered open to find him standing over her, his glittering gaze affixed to her. The noise must have come from his the immense ruby he usually wore pinned at his throat as it hit the tabletop; he was loosening his cravat, also leaving it on the bedside table. There was another clatter as he unfastened his cufflink and dropped it onto the wood surface. She could see his erection straining at his trouser front and she longed to reach up, pull the suspenders from his shoulders, undo the buttons on his pants, and take him into her hand, her mouth, her self but she stayed still, expecting him to disrobe and join her in bed.

Instead of undoing his shirt, instead of removing his clothes, instead of joining her in bed, he rolled up his sleeve before unfastening the other cufflink. First, Christine felt a confusion edge in on her cloud of bliss, then anger that he wasn't joining her, then more confusion mingled with dread. He obviously wanted her - what, exactly, was he planning?

"What a curious doll; your eyes seem to follow me all around the room," he chuckled, finishing rolling up the other sleeve as he walked back to the end of the bed where her legs were still askew. She blinked, self-conscious, and refocused on controlling her breath.

Beginning at the edge of the stocking on her right leg, his elegant hands caressed down her thigh, across the curve of her calf, down to her ankle. He tipped the high heeled slipper from her foot, letting it fall to the floor with a thump, and then, eyes dancing with mischief, placed her ankle on his left shoulder. The hem of her garment slid down and gathered around her hips. Heat crept into her cheeks; she felt scandalously exposed. His nimble fingers undid the garter on her thigh, allowing it to flutter to the mattress. Those skillful fingertips found the edge of her stocking and slowly, teasingly, began rolling the silk down her leg. His touch was maddening, the level of detail magnified by the fact that she could only lay there and experience it, not participate.

Now he rolled the stocking up and over her knee, stopping right below it...Now one hand went to the ankle at his shoulder and pressed it down, holding it fast...Now the other hand went back to her knee, the fingers dancing around the roll of the stocking.

Oh no. Christine felt her breath quicken. He wouldn't…

"Now," he said, making sure to stare her dead in the face. "If you were a real flesh and blood woman, I imagine this little spot right here behind your knee would be extremely ticklish. And if I were to attempt this maneuver where I would draw the stocking down your leg and accidentally brushed this area, you would jolt, kick me in the face, and leave me with a black eye on my good side."

Just that one time! And it was an accident!, she wanted to shout. All she managed was a flare of her nostrils.

"And then others would suspect that my sweet little wife had to defend herself from a rampaging brute such as myself."

This incident and the ensuing misunderstanding happened soon after they were married and Christine was stung with guilt for months and months afterwards. She had repeatedly apologized and explained herself but still, Erik did like to needle and tease her about it sometimes. It was really his fault - if only he hadn't removed her stocking so quickly and swiped that most ticklish patch of skin…

Christine couldn't think of the past, had to deal with the present, where Erik was daring her to squirm. The hand at her ankle pressed down, securing her leg to his shoulder while the other began teasing at the seam between flesh and fabric. Oh, he was so smug! His sparse grey eyebrows were slowly creeping up his forehead with delight, the corners of his lips were quirked up in a muted smile. She was practically ready to kick the look right off of his face regardless if he was foolish enough to touch behind her knee.

With his eyes pinned to hers, he deliberately, languidly, drew a finger across the flesh from the lower part of her thigh and past the area behind her knee. It took all of her concentration not to jump off the bed. She clenched her jaw, the tips of her fingers pressed into mattress, her breath came in quick little gasps but she did not squirm or scream or cry.

Something unexpected happened...The anticipation of his touch, the tightening of her stomach, the tingles as his fingertips skimmed the skin all seemed to draw a delicious sensation down to her center. Just as she had this realization, he reached down with both hands and continued rolling down her stocking. She felt almost...disappointed.

After lowering her bare right leg, he put her left leg on his right shoulder and began the process once more. This time, though, he only gently caressed her knee, playfully threatening to tickle her again but not following through. He turned his head to give a quick kiss to her ankle before releasing her leg.

Her eyes followed him as he walked around the side of the bed. The one stocking was still in his hands and he twisted the fabric around and around, contemplating her prone form. Christine imagined, for a second, that he was about to use it to bind her hands or something similar and her stomach tightened in anticipation. Although the thought seemed to cross his mind, the impulse died behind his eyes and he left the stocking on the bedside table.

Christine was surprised to find that she was again frustrated and she had to wonder what kind of woman wanted to be tied up. She had a moment of panic that perhaps she had truly gone too far, that she was exploring such strange, sinful pathways of lust that her desires were irredeemable. What must Erik think of her?

She couldn't help but recall the time she got her piercings and what a disaster their debut had been. Tension was building in her marriage with Raoul. Rumors of infidelity on his part, his suspicion of her own infidelity, and the beginning of his gambling and drinking habits were starting to manifest. He decided some time apart was best and that they could start fresh when he returned, so he went with friends on a trip to Monte Carlo. On a whim, while he was away, she went with one of her society friends to the scandalous parlor where many ladies had their anneux de sein put in. At the time, she thought it would be an exciting addition to their marriage, that he would see her in a whole new light.

But when he returned from his trip, he was already enveloped in darkness and no light would reach him. That first night she revealed them, he scowled, said it was improper for a lady of her standing to have such things, called her a freak. Later he apologized, true, but he never really did warm up to them and it made Christine feel how she often did, that her ideas were not welcome because they were not healthy, they were not normal, they were not proper, they were not ladylike...If she wasn't like a lady, then what was she?

But then Erik was sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, bending down to take one of the little pearls into his mouth, tugging at it with this teeth through the fabric of her gown, wiping the self-doubt from her thoughts. How could she ever believe Erik would judge her so harshly after all of these years? The most judgmental thing he'd ever done was throw a fit over a grey dress that she adored and he loathed and they had a rather vicious disagreement about whether or not the pleating at the front was flattering. It did go missing eventually...

Those intrusive thoughts slipped further and further away from the front of her mind as Erik

worried the pearl at the end of her anneux in his lips. While one hand crept over her heated skin to palm her other breast, his mouth continuously sucked and pulled and teased at the other through her lingerie. The fabric added extra friction every time he took her nipple into his mouth, and when he withdrew, it clung to her, wet and cool, making her almost cry out in relief when his hot mouth closed over it once more.

Just over his thigh, she could almost see the bulge at the front of his trousers and her hand twitched imperceptibly, longing to creep over, to cup him through the wool, to stroke him and bring him the same pleasure he granted her. She couldn't understand why he was still working on her, still holding back. If he wasn't feeling frustrated, she was in his stead.

She was so lost in her irritation she didn't feel him plucking at the buttons between her breasts, opening the front of her lingerie to slide one smooth hand under the chiffon. His touch made electricity ripple across her skin and she closed her eyes, clenching her jaw to keep from moaning with desire. He pressed a kiss to the place in her neck where her pulse thrummed hard but then he pulled away once more. Through her closed lids, she could feel him watching her and she dared to open her eyes. His thumb thoughtfully circled her pert nipple, flicking the ring on every pass, as he stared down at her, his face shadowed with lust and contemplation. Under his hand, Christine's heart beat harder.

"I suppose one of the best things about having a dolly is that you can dress them or undress them as you please…" There was now a rough edge in his velvet voice as if he was reaching the limits of his restraint. Surely he wouldn't keep playing with her like this, teasing her endlessly…

He pulled her up to a sitting position and, after tugging this way and that, brought the lingerie up and over her head, leaving her entirely nude. He draped her arms around his neck, trailing kisses from her jaw to her forehead, across her lips, down her neck, each one infused with increasing urgency. Just as his lips met the hollow at her throat, she gave a little sigh. He immediately paused.

No! He can't stop, not now!

Christine felt her breath quicken and struggled to reign it in. If he stopped just to prove a point in their game, she would take matters into her own hands, rules be damned. That strange little smile of his was present once more and his amber eyes were alight with devilish fire. Seeing this, the slightest bit of regret for dreaming up this silly game squirmed its way in between the butterflies in her stomach.

Swiftly yet gently, he flipped her onto her stomach. With one ear pressed to the mattress, she heard the bed creaking as he planted both hands beside her head and leaned down to kiss her cheek. His warm breath at her ear, the weight of him pressing into her between her shoulder blades made her skin erupt in gooseflesh. One hand raised to softly smooth her hair away from her face, taking a moment to fan it out around her head - and then he was gone. The mattress sprang back up without his weight and cool air rushed against her skin where his body had pressed to her exposed flesh.

Caught by surprise, Christine almost lifted her head to turn to look for him - almost. While it was growing harder and harder to play the part of the passive mannequin, she remained committed to the rules. Having these invisible binds on her body and an imaginary gag on her tongue magnified every sensation, made every action feel like an exquisite agony and amplified every moment of his absence. The need she felt for him was almost bordering on physical pain and she struggled to keep from shifting about on the bed anxiously. She remained still, taking calm, measured breaths, waiting for his return.

The lights snapped off, leaving them only in whatever moonlight came through the windows. There was the sound of shuffling, of fabric rustling, then the sound of the mattress creaking as he crawled towards her on the bed. His cool bare skin covered her once more has he resumed his previous position, hands besides her head, body pressed to her back. She could feel his cock, hard and hot, against her thigh and shuddered with anxious electricity. It couldn't be much longer…

He lowered himself to kiss the crest of her shoulders, up the back of her neck, stopping at the edge of her ear to growl, "Ah, Christine…"

She was about ready to scream; to counter this, she decided to focus on the obscenely large near-black gem that was always perched on his smallest finger. It glimmered in the limited moonlight, and she counted the facets to keep her mind calm while her every nerve was on fire. Even that was eventually denied to her; his hand left her sight as he reached down to guide his cock to her opening, teasing it back and forth, back and forth.

The cruelty! The audacity! Was he enjoying himself? From the sounds of his strained moans, it didn't sound like it and Christine was glad. If he was going to make her suffer, she wanted him to be on her level.

Finally, he pushed forward with one long, guttural groan. The relief she felt as he sank into her unfortunately manifested itself as a high, breathy cry. He stopped.

No!

Real tears pricked her eyes, half out of frustration with herself and half with his endless, maddening teasing. Erik did like to push a game a little too far, didn't he? This time she was sure she was going to spring up, flip him over, and take matters into her own hands if he didn't allow her the release he had spent what felt like hours building to.

Erik lowered himself further down to peer at her almost eye to eye. "Hmm...I suppose new dolls are a bit squeaky at first, aren't they?"

The words that ran through Christine's mind at that moment were more appropriate for a surly, long-suffering dockworker than a genteel society lady and she hoped he could see them flashing across her face. The unconscionable tease! The joke was truly wearing thin at this point! Didn't he feel about ready to burst, as she did? How dare he?!

After giving her cheek a soft kiss, a smug chuckle vibrating across her skin, he raised himself back up and began thrusting into her with long, forceful strokes. Each one forced a gasp from her lips but he seemed to be past the point of caring about this little transgression against the rules, and she was grateful for it. This is what she wanted - not thinking about what came next, not worried about whether or not he was holding back. Another moment of self doubt crossed her mind, wondering why she had put herself in a position where she was just passive, just being used, but it quickly washed away as she was lost in wave after wave of sensation.

His intensity and this position was enough to dissolve all rational thought yet she couldn't help but wish that she had more direct attention to the little bud that brought her the most pleasure. As if he read her mind, he dug his arm beneath her and rolled them both over, his hand immediately snaking down between her legs. At last - he would grant her the release she was longing for!

Now, before they were married, Erik had divulged the many details of his life that he had kept locked away over the years. The things he told her he experienced and had done seemed fantastic, unbelievable, and yet explained so many of his behaviors. One of the strangest things he told her about was his bizarre childhood in the palaces of Persia, serving the shah as a sort of court jester or entertainer - but also an executioner and torturer. While she had witnessed flashes of his white-hot rage, his remorse was always fast and doubly intense. That was also a long time ago, and since then, he had proven himself to be as gentle as a lamb.

\- Or so she thought! No, she could never before imagine her sweet and devoted husband, a man she had to pry into revealing his desires with this stupid game, as a person who only dreamed night and day of inflicting pain and agony on unwilling victims. Now, as he brought her up to the edge of her climax and dropped her back down repeatedly, she unequivocally knew he reveled in others' misery.

At first, she had been pleased to feel his fingers flicking against her little pearl. She sighed and settled against him, cheek to the pillow, as her body began to tremble with impending release. And then - he stopped! He came to a full stop, laying perfectly still, his arms clamped around her body and still buried deep within her. She felt his hot breath against her neck, her curls sticking to the perspiration on his brow. He held fast to her until their panting subsided and her throbbing need receded, and then started again once more.

The first time, she could bear it, but he cruelly did it once, twice, three times, bringing her to the crest of satisfaction before pulling her back again. Each time, her body seemed to gather pleasure from a deeper reservoir, the intensity growing stronger - along with her frustration. It was apparent she wasn't suffering alone; Erik moaned and whimpered and writhed with her, forcing himself through the same excruciating torment. From time to time, she could feel him staring down at her, watching to see if she would crack but knowing that he was scrutinizing her so closely fueled her determination to mind their rules to the letter. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction if he wouldn't give her hers.

He pulled free of her and just as she was about to protest, pressed her back into the mattress as he brought them face to face. For another excruciating moment, he lay still as he kissed her, fervently crushing his lips to hers, to her face, to her throat. After a brief moment of this, he pulled her legs up around him and leaned forward, gripping the headboard. Ah - this was one of their favorite positions as it provided perfect friction exactly where she needed it. At long last, the end was in sight!

Erik, in his desperation for release, set a frantic pace and Christine finally felt the rush of her climax crashing into her senses. The intense, pure molten pleasure radiated from her center and wiped every doubt, thought, and impulse from her mind. There were only two things that swam through her consciousness with any sort of clarity - the feeling of Erik's hand caressing her cheek and her controlled, silent gasps.

.

.

.

"Christine….Christine…"

Erik's voice in her ear pulled Christine's consciousness from the dark velvet bliss she was suspended in. It started out a soft whisper but was now growing annoyingly insistent. Why couldn't he let her be? He brought her to this place, it's only right he should let her enjoy it a moment longer.

She cracked an eye open. His face went from relieved upon realizing she hadn't gone into a coma to offended that she was playing at being dead. She quickly closed her one eye again and tamed the smirk that was pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Christine."

Oh, his voice was so firm now! He was so insistent earlier that she not make a peep and now he wanted to reanimate her! Well, she would make him suffer a little bit longer. It was only fair, really. He gently nuzzled her, dropping a few kisses across her jaw and under her ear where he knew she was slightly ticklish. She remained motionless.

"You know, I forgot that I am a rather capable magician. Perhaps I can turn this incredibly anatomically correct medical manikin into a real girl. Abracadabra!"

She felt his lips press to hers and could hold out no longer, opening her eyes and bringing her arms around him. She felt him relax under her touch. When he broke from the kiss, he pulled her into his embrace, cuddling her close.

"So did you enjoy yourself, Christine? Did you get the sensation you were seeking, that you were not completely in control?"

"Erik, I must admit, that was an adventure! I didn't know what was coming next and it was...it was interesting and exciting...Did you like it?"

"...If you are happy, I am happy."

Christine didn't like his pause and his response seemed guarded at best. "If you're unhappy then I'm not happy, Erik. If you didn't like it, I want to know. That's what I want more than anything - I want to know what you think, I want your honesty."

Erik squirmed for a moment and then, worrying the edge of the sheet between his fingers, he said, "...I didn't like all of it. I didn't like that you were unresponsive. I wasn't sure how you were feeling, if you were uncomfortable, if I was hurting you."

Christine kissed his cheek, his brow, his lips. "There - that's what I really like from you, some clear honesty. We could've stopped any time you wanted if you didn't like it, you just had to say the word. And besides, if you were making me uncomfortable or something hurt, I would tell you."

Erik remained silent and continued fumbling with the edge of the sheet.

"You know," Christine playfully landed a finger on his nose nub. "I think there were times that you were having more fun than I was. You were trying so hard to get me to crack!"

"Well…" he said, visibly relaxing a bit. "You proved yourself an excellent actress as always and weathered all distractions admirably."

"Next time, we should try it with you as the mannequin, then you can see how fun it is. Would you like that?"

"I...I would try it at least once…"

Christine nestled close to him again, curling up under his arm and drawing her fingertip up and down the center of his chest.

"I'm surprised to hear that you didn't enjoy yourself because you seemed to be quite enthusiastic about your role. Now I know why that mannequin was falling down all the time…"

"Christine -!" She got a mischievous thrill from hearing the indignant outrage in his voice. "I never -! Why do you insist -?"

Smirking, she egged him on. "I don't believe I'll be able to walk right for a week!"

He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, settling into his role as the beleaguered butt of her jokes. "You are very mean, very mean indeed to me, Christine," he said, teasing her back.

She sighed and patted him sympathetically. "Poor old Erik!"

* * *

 _Thanks for reading my Kintober 2018 story! (Yes, I know it's now November...Let's just roll with it.) Thanks as well to Timebird84 for coming up with the 2018 Kinktober prompts; it was a lot of fun._


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